The Bloody Turnabout
by Moonlight Shining
Summary: To Maya Fey: Ms. von Karma suffering strange disease - Mr. Edgeworth nowhere to be found - I'm really scared - Need your help urgently - Adrian Andrews. Warning: Blood. Sexual situations. Contains Miles x Franziska, Phoenix x Maya, homoeroticism
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

He was a man of science. His superior intellect prevented him from believing in the occult, and his skepticism extended to myths and superstitions alike. He didn't believe in God either to be honest. But that was another story… There was nothing that could have swayed him from his solid convictions.

That was why he thought himself to be the victim of some elaborated optical illusion when he first glimpsed the creature. Surely, there could be no such thing as a crawling human form on that pillar. Humans did not crawl, let-alone on walls.

The vision, however, left him with an elusive feeling of uneasiness. He hastened his pace while mentally admonishing himself for this sign of weakness. He was on a familiar ground. There should have been nothing to unnerve him in such a way. But, admittedly, he was getting more and more worried as the seconds passed. Something just didn't feel right in the underground parking lot tonight.

He opened the door to his car and sat in the driver's seat, relieved in spite of himself. He knew he was safe in there but nevertheless felt compelled to lock the doors. One never knew…

He slowly pulled out of his reserved space and drove toward the exit. The lights went out. He let out a curse, slamming on the brakes. The car screeched to a halt. He was left stupefied for an eerie moment, wondering why the spare generator didn't take over, then something hit the car. He winced. What was it? Had something or _someone_ bumped into the vehicle?

He switched on the headlights, illuminating the space in front of him. Nothing. There was nothing. He must have imagined it, as strange as it may seem. He was so nervous he wouldn't be surprised if his nerves played tricks on him.

He was about to start again when a shadow crossed the beam. He blinked, then he suddenly saw it. Right next to the car, a tall man was standing. The intruder's long, blond hair was falling over his face, but he could still clearly see the cold eyes, the ruddy lips.

He lowered his window, glaring at him. How could someone possibly be so foolish?

"Do you have no sense, wandering in an unlit parking lot? You could have-" he snapped.

Then he caught the look on the livid man's face – undisguised curiosity, supreme arrogance, and something else… something unnerving.

"What do you want?"

The stranger smiled, then his pale eyes smiled too, and then everything turned dark before his eyes.

"So ironic that I should disregard the last wish of such a remarkable man… But you _really _are too beautiful to go to waste…"

* * *

Everything was dark and calm, the silence only disturbed by the distant sound of a car going down the street. Lying fast asleep in an armchair, a man was dreaming. He had fallen asleep brooding over grudges and fantasies of revenge, just like he had been doing for the past two years he had spent in prison.

As usual, the same nightmares were haunting him – the pain, the blood staining his clothes… the hated face of his nemesis… and… the boy, his curse and burden.

The eyes he was seeing right now, however, were not those to whom he was accustomed. They were far too clear, far too icy. The creature who was bending over him wasn't his sworn enemy, it wasn't even the son…

He who never feared was paralyzed with an irrational awe. He couldn't move, he couldn't scream and his heart was thumping in his chest, so hard he was sure the strange man could hear it also. The intruder smirked cruelly, baring white teeth. Teeth that were sharp, pointed, teeth that were growing before his very eyes. His hands tightened around his shoulders in a vice grip, nails digging into his jacket. They were piercing his shirt. Piercing his flesh_. _The attack drew a groan from him. The man licked his lips obscenely. He leaned in close to the crook of his neck, sighing with sickening anticipation. The cloud of incomprehension dispersed, and the realization of imminent death snapped him out of his stupor. It wasn't a dream, it wasn't a vision… it was real.

"Don't kill me..."

_Why wouldn't I?_ the man replied, slightly annoyed. Even though his mouth wasn't moving, he could still hear the words resound in his head, loud and clear.

_And now, if you would please be quiet. I'm not in the habit of discussing with my food._

Anyone else than him would have fainted with horror. He knew he was doomed. That man… that creature was going to kill him, and he would die, miserable, in a squalid prison cell. What a shame to think he would never get his revenge.

But it was too late. A searing pain ran through him as the_ thing_ plunged its fangs into his neck, avidly draining the life from him. No! He couldn't allow it.

_What is it? Do you have anything you would like to say?_ the creature scoffed.

"I want you to kill someone," he coughed.

He could feel the blood trickle down his neck as his assailant moved away from him. The human-looking monster had raised an eyebrow, and so he could tell that his last wish was surprising, even to him.

_How deliciously devious… _The creature smiled. _That is the first time I've ever been faced with such an unusual request. But then, you must be quite an unusual man… I can feel it. Egoistical… sadistic… Just the way I like it. Your soul is nearly as dark as mine…_

He laughed heartily, a sound directly out of hell.

_I'm listening. Who is that person whose death you so ardently beseech for?_

He was declining quickly, the loss of blood was too much for his body to take.

"His name is… Miles Edgeworth," he exhaled, his breath coming out ragged and raspy. It wouldn't be too long, now…

"Miles Edgeworth…" the man repeated, letting each syllable roll off his tongue slowly. "Miles Edgeworth…" _So, you would like to see him dead?_

"That is all I ask of you."

The creature seemed to think it over. His eyes glinted in the darkness, then he said.

"Unfortunately I have no interest in the humans' ways and customs. This is the end for you."

Looking up from the still warm body, the vampire's pallid eyes caught an interesting sight. In the dead man's hand was a crumpled piece of paper.

"Look at what we have here… Are you trying to hide something from me?"

He snatched it with a brisk movement. It was a picture of two teenagers. A man and a young girl were standing side by side before a plain background. They were as different as could be, but they both wore an identically serious expression and the same aura of beauty radiated from them.

"Delightful…" he observed.

The writing at the back of the picture elicited a smile from him. 'Miles and Franziska 2012'. He threw an amused glance to the corpse of his victim.

"Well… Well… We may have reached an understanding after all …"


	2. Sweet Dreams

**Chapter 1- Sweet Dreams**

It was weeks after the end of that case and Miles had been sleeping even less than usual. The need to talk to Franziska had quickly become an obsession, but he always hanged up before he had finished dialing the number. What could he possibly say to her anyway? _I'm sorry that, because of me, your father got convicted of murdering my father and trying to frame me for his murder…_

He wondered if she hated him and wondered if it was alright to hate himself too. No matter what Wright said, hadn't Miles thrown that gun, none of that would have happened and both he and Franziska would still have their fathers. He wasn't sure anymore who he loathed more between Manfred von Karma and Miles Edgeworth.

In the end, it was she who called him, her voice cold and brittle as ice and her words an indirect plea for help. She had already arrived in the US and she was at the airport right now. She had believed it was her duty to let him know – not that she really wanted to see him anyway, but there were legal issues regarding the management of the estate amongst other things that required their attention…

It had been less than a month since Manfred had been arrested and even though he had yet to undergo trial, everyone knew what the sentence would be – death. Still, Franziska's story was nowhere near plausible. Not only was it administratively much too early to be discussing inheritance and last wills, but he seriously doubted that Franziska was in the mood for such things, not to mention that it hardly concerned Miles anyway. Von Karma likely intended on leaving the son of his enemy nothing else than eternal damnation.

Miles had accepted to meet her all too readily. Both of them were unwilling to admit that while they didn't really want to, while they dreaded the moment they would have to face each other, while they felt that there was nothing left to say, the fact remained that they needed to see each other, needed to make sure that the other wasn't crumbling as completely as they were themselves.

He knew that he looked like a human wreck and Franziska was only the shadow of herself, but none of them acknowledged that fact. Franziska seemed determined to pretend nothing was wrong and declined his invitation to stay at his apartment. Miles went along, if only because he was too scared of the ugly truth which might come out if he pressed her too hard. They were the main clue, her eyes, or more precisely the hate that shone in them when she believed he wasn't looking…

Then she announced her intention to visit her father and, for the first time, he realized how damaged she actually was.

"Are you coming with me?" Franziska asked and he had to make one of the most difficult decisions of his life. She was in blatant denial and he really should have tried and wake her from her illusion. Instead he agreed to accompany her.

Miles thought about how uncharacteristic of Franziska it was to ask anything from him and about how far he would go to win her forgiveness. He also thought about how he had a right to know and how the man who had meant everything to him for so long hadn't even granted him that. He couldn't understand how Manfred on Karma could have pretended for fifteen years, letting him live in a lie while he quietly but passionately hated him. Miles wondered if anything he might say could sway von Karma and make him listen to him, make him talk.

The second Manfred's eyes landed on his former protégé, he turned his back on his two visitors.

"You!" he apostrophized the security guard. "I want to go back to my cell. Now."

"Wait!" Franziska had spoken up, interrupting the guard unceremoniously. "Wait, papa…" she repeated more softly and Manfred momentarily froze in his tracks.

When he turned back toward them, his face was a mask of hatred.

"Why is _he_ here?" he seethed.

Miles could see the charred shreds of Franziska's hopes fluttering across the room. Her eyes were wide with shock.

"I'm sorry."

She was doing her best to pacify him, but her apology was also a confession and it didn't escape the older man's notice.

"How dare you bring him here!? Get him out of my sight!"

The legs of the chair screeched as Miles stood up in silence. He should have known better than to think he had anything to do here. He might as well leave by himself without waiting for the guards to escort him out.

"Why? Why are you doing this?"

Franziska's voice was heavy with grief and cracked mid sentence. Miles could see how hard she was trying to put up a brave face, and failing. Her expression was guarded, but her back was unnaturally stiff, hands tightly clasped in her lap.

"Be quiet, Franziska."

"I won't! How could you…? You- I thought we were a family!"

It was strange hearing her challenge her father in such a manner. It was the first time she ever dared question his authority and principles, and – as Miles suspected – it would also be the last…

Von Karma's gaze travelled from his daughter's blank face to the comforting hand that rested on her shoulder. In the end, it was that innocent gesture that seemingly sent the old man over the edge.

"How dare you turn her against me, Edgeworth!?" he bellowed, so loud that the microphone seemed to screech in protest. Miles watched transfixed as tiny drops of spittle splattered the glass. He had never been so grateful about the thick glass partition separating the prisoners from their visitors as he was now.

"How dare you touch her?!"

His former mentor's hands were grasping the edge of the table so tight that his knuckles were white. His face was contorted with fury; his eyes, mad.

"I will kill you, do you hear me? I will kill you!"

Before he could react, Franziska jumped on her feet and left the room, slamming the door behind her. Manfred pounded his fist on the table and the glass shattered.

Miles raised his arms to shield his face as thousands of shards came flying at him, a rain of deadly daggers slashing their way through the air. Or maybe through him.

"Die!"

Gingerly, he brought his slit wrists up to feel the gash on his neck. He was bleeding and Manfred was laughing, an insane laugh which didn't sound like him…

"Look at me!" he commanded.

"No! No! I don't want to."

"Look at me," the voice repeated.

Miles's entire body gave a violent lurch as his eyes finally opened, but the red wouldn't go away – there was blood everywhere. He wanted to scream, but his voice came out as a hoarse and weak cry; he wanted to run but his muscles were like lead.

And standing over him, there was this man… the man from the parking lot.

"Sweet dreams?"

"What have you done to me?"

"I'm giving you the choice I never had…"


	3. Goodnight Kiss

**Chapter 2- Goodnight Kiss**

The blackness felt better than the throbbing pain, almost soothing, and he welcomed the abyss, letting the rhythm of his heart lull him to sleep as it beat slower and slower. He would have blissfully sunk into the silence if only the eyes had relented and let him – the eyes of ice that burnt through his closed eyelids like white-hot iron.

"You're dying," the man by his side explained gently, as if he were talking to a child. He took his hand in his, squeezing it gently.

Miles shut his eyes even tighter against the invasion of the voice in his mind. If this was death, then he didn't really mind. He preferred it to the nauseating delirium life had become, dozing through nightmares while shadows watched over his sleep and gave him kisses that hurt.

"You want to die, is that what you really want? Have you even thought about her?"

_Her? _The words echoed in his head, piercing through the fog of numbness and rousing a strangely familiar ache.

"You'll never see her again, if you die, Miles."

So much left unsaid and no time left… Try as he might, Miles couldn't remember the last time he and Franziska had had a true conversation, a chat about something unrelated to cases and investigations. She had changed a lot– Miles always liked to think about how far she had come since their discussion at the airport all those years ago when she had been but a vulnerable girl, crushed under the weight of her father's madness. Away from him, she had thrived in a way that surpassed Miles's expectations. He liked to think that he had helped her rise to the woman she was today, his partner and equal in and out of the courtroom.

What he didn't like thinking about was how their lives and works had continued to drive them apart. Underneath the layers of formality and professionalism, he rarely caught a glimpse of the Franziska he used to know.

No time left and so much left unsaid…

"I can give you all the time in the world."

The voice drifted lazily toward him from afar, and he tried to open his eyes, to no avail.

"We are running out of time," murmured the voice near his left ear. "You had better hurry up if you've had a change of mind."

Blindly, Miles reached out toward the man, but his fingers closed on nothing but thin air. His arm dropped limply back to his side.

"I'm sorry, I can't hear you."

"Please."

"So, as it is… I give you eternal life."

He sounded pleased with himself now, as if laughing at some private joke only he could understand. It took only a few seconds – Miles heard the softest of gasps, then he felt the press of something soft, warm and slick against his lips. The metallic taste of blood invaded his mouth, the smell suffocated him. Instinctively, he tried to turn his head away, but the man's fingers were already gripping his chin.

"Swallow!" he hissed. "Do as I say."

* * *

Miles stared across the room at the man who fancied himself his instructor. How he loathed him in that moment, the whole of him – from the engaging smile he sported, baring bright, pearly white teeth, to his elegant fingers, which were tenderly cradling the little face of a toddler he held against him like a trophy.

"Think of this as the beginner's course," he explained pleasantly. "I've selected her especially for you since she won't be much of a challenge to handle. She's lost consciousness, but she should wake up in a little while. We can do this the easy way or not. It's up to you."

He didn't bother answering, merely putting more distance between him and her fluttering heart, ignoring the enticing noise of the hot blood rushing through her veins.

The vampire shrugged. "She won't recover, you know. I've fed on her already."

"You've turned me into a monster."

The man's eyes widened in mock surprise at the accusation.

"Seriously? Am I really expected to believe that I tricked an innocent lamb into becoming a big bad wolf? Everybody has heard about vampires nowadays, pretty boy."

"Vampires do not exist."

This time he burst out laughing.

"And I honestly thought you were an intelligent man, Miles. I must have been mistaken. Use your eyes." He gestured around the room. "Does this look like a dream?"

The vampire took the few steps that separated them. The child was hanging from his hand like a ragged doll. His other hand came up, cupping Miles's cheek delicately.

"Does this feel real?"

Miles recoiled from the touch. He didn't know where they were. The man's house probably… The windows were sealed off, cutting him from the sunlight, from everything in the world but that repulsive creature. He grabbed a plank and began to pull…

"No!"

In a split second, the man had come up behind him, tearing his hand away with brutal strength. The little body slumped on the wooden floor, momentarily forgotten.

"What are you doing, idiot? Do you have no sense? You'll kill us both!"

The man's arms snaked around his middle, wrapping him into a steel embrace as he pulled him away from the window. Miles started to struggle.

"Leave me alone! I'd rather die than be like you."

He was no match for the elder vampire. The other was losing his breath but did not slacken.

"Stop it, Miles," he panted. "What will she do without you?"

He stilled like a startled cat, motionless but tense as a piano wire. The vampire's arms remained firmly locked around his waist, his shallow breath warming his cheek.

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about _Franziska von Karma_, of course. Who knows what might become of her once you're gone…"

* * *

The storm had arrived seemingly out of nowhere. In the early evening, dark clouds had begun to gather on the horizon with formidable speed, and mere minutes later the city had been plunged in darkness, some two hours before sunset. Even the skyscrapers had looked like stranded passersby, alone in the unusually deserted streets and shivering under the billowing wind and rainy curtain.

Late in the night, however, the rain had suddenly stopped pouring, and the wind had unexpectedly stopped blowing. At the moment, everything was dark and calm, the silence only disturbed by the distant sound of a car going down the street. In fact, the atmosphere felt troublingly similar to that of another night a few years ago, moments before an old man died a mysterious, bloody death, alone in his prison cell. However, this time the ambient stillness wasn't that of calm before chaos; it was the deadly silence that usually follows the most destructive of storms.

An unconscious woman was lying down on a white bed while another sat by her side, watching and waiting. She was half-slumped on a plastic chair – cold, uncomfortable, utterly hospital-like. From time to time, she risked a glance at the other's face, but her features remained lifeless, her skin nearly as pale as the walls surrounding them both. The woman in the brown chair was visibly in a state of shock and, despite the warmth in the room, she shivered uncontrollably. Against her will, her wide eyes constantly wandered to the red bag that hung above the patient's bed, travelled incessantly along the tube that dived down and plunged into her arm. Deep in her mind, a living nightmare was playing and replaying in a relentless, continuous loop…

**R&R please :)**


	4. A Leap in the Dark

**Chapter 3- A Leap in the Dark **

Adrian Andrews was in the middle of a funny anecdote about how she had landed her newest contract when they were interrupted by Franziska's mobile ringing. Her heart sank as she took her phone out of her handbag to have a look at the screen– the attorney wasn't on call tonight, but that had never stopped the prosecutors' office, the police station, or even Interpol from contacting her at all sort of inconvenient times, and Adrian knew her well enough to say that she would never reject a work-related call or refuse to report in, for that matter. Their evening together was running the risk of getting cut short…

"I'm sorry," Franziska said apologetically. "It's the office. I have to answer…"

Adrian took a sip of her wine. She was never particularly interested in whatever Franziska discussed with her colleagues. She only hoped that it was nothing important and the conversation wouldn't last. If they were lucky, it would be a matter of seconds.

"Yes, what is it?" Franziska asked coldly. "Well, the harm is done. I was enjoying dinner."

She let out an exasperated sigh. "Please make it brief. What happened? Can't this wait until tomorrow?"

"Miles Edgeworth? No, he isn't with me. I haven't seen him for months, actually." The familiar name caught Adrian's attention. She tore her gaze away from her plate to look at the prosecutor. Franziska looked as confused as she sounded, and her frown only seemed to deepen with the seconds.

"No, I don't know where he might be… Why are you calling me to ask such foolishly foolish questions?" There was a lengthy pause, then she cried out, "What do you mean 'disappeared'?" Her face had suddenly turned alarmingly pale, the hand that wasn't holding the phone clenching into a tight fist around her napkin.

"No, I had no idea and, yes, I can guarantee that he isn't in Germany. Have the police been informed?"

"I don't care that he has done something like this before. That has nothing do with anything! What have you been waiting for? Just call them already, you foolish-" Her voice had risen again, and several of the diners shot glares in their direction.

The person on the other end of the line was apparently growing agitated, and, for the first time, Adrian overhead a few words of what was being spoken.

"… calm… Ms. von Karma… done… let you know… learn anything."

"Please do." She hung up.

For a moment, Franziska purposely avoided meeting Adrian's gaze. She was staring intently at the immaculate tablecloth, elbow on the table and slender fingers resting on her forehead. Then she looked up, but Adrian could tell that she wasn't really seeing her.

"Franziska… are you alright?" she asked hesitantly.

"Naturally," she snapped, and Adrian instantly knew that she wasn't. When feeling under pressure, aggression had always been Franziska's default response. Something really bad had happened – Adrian had gathered as much – something involving Mr. Edgeworth 'disappearing'. However, since Franziska seemed unwilling to talk about it, she didn't dare bring it up again.

"You were saying…?" Franziska prompted her, and she had no choice but to go on with her story, even though none of them was in the mood to laugh anymore.

"If you would excuse me, I'll be back in a moment…" Franziska said after a few minutes.

"Are you going to call the police?"

The woman nodded and left the table – it was twenty to nine.

The wait was never-ending. Five minutes stretched into ten, then into a quarter of an hour… A dignified waiter came to inquire about whether he should bring the dessert menu, and Adrian had to turn him down. When the clock on the wall in front of her chimed the hour of nine, she finally stood up.

With Franziska gone for so long, she was beginning to worry, and, alone with herself, with nothing to do but pondering it over, her unsure natural was taking over. She remembered her friend heading for the general direction of the lobby and was suddenly assailed with terrible doubts – had she decided to leave her there and go looking for Mr. Edgeworth? Or had Adrian done something wrong? Had she said something that had offended the prosecutor so terribly that she couldn't stand another minute in her presence? Was the phone call an excuse to leave and go home?

On her way to the front desk she threw a glance at the coat rack – but Franziska's black jacket was still hanging neatly in place. Unconvinced, she went and checked the ladies' bathroom just in case, but, unsurprisingly, Franziska wasn't in there.

"Excuse me," Adrian addressed the reception employee. "I'm looking for my friend. She left our table almost half an hour ago and she isn't back yet… Do you remember her? A woman in her early twenties with light blue hair…"

The man motioned to a nearby French window.

"I think I saw your friend pacing about there. She was on the phone… but that was quite a while ago."

"Thank you…"

She looked through the glass panel. The door led onto a well-lit veranda, occupied with many tables and chairs, all carefully covered-up with plastic tarpaulin while waiting for the sunny days. At one corner of the terrace, a staircase led down to the ground level and into the gardens. Beyond the light of the wall-attached lamps, Adrian could make out the dark shapes of trees. Naturally, the place was deserted.

"With all due respect, madam, are you sure your friend hasn't already left?"

"Positive."

She approached the door.

"Pardon me for interfering in your business, madam, but I honestly doubt your friend would have gone to have a night stroll in such a dreadful weather. It's been raining cats and dogs all evening."

"Fine, I think I'll just have a quick look, though."

"As you wish…"

He bowed, and, hesitantly, Adrian stepped out onto the porch. She could hear the astounding clatter of the rain on the roof of the veranda. She moved closer to the balustrade and looked down at the park that spread below. No one in sight, obviously… She was about to give up and reenter the restaurant when she suddenly caught sight of something – the small wooden portal that guarded the top of the stair was ajar. Somebody must have forgotten to close it, she rationalized, but still… Could Franziska, against all odds, have gone down to the garden? Confused, Adrian walked down a few steps, then stopped for a moment.

"Franziska?" she called. She was greeted by nothing but silence.

Halfway down, she suddenly felt that she was making a fool of herself, wandering out of the restaurant and into the night like that. Franziska had probably gone back inside and, by some sort of bad timing, they had inadvertently managed to miss each other. She imagined the prosecutor back to the dining table, surprised at not finding her there.

Adrian turned on her heels and began to climb back, but her foot suddenly got caught in something and she tripped, all but spraining her ankle in the process. Wincing, she glanced down and saw that there was some sort of thin rope in a coil on the dimly lit floor. The space of a moment, she wondered whatever reason the staff of the restaurant could possibly have for letting such a useless and dangerous thing lying about there. But it only lasted a second. Because then, Adrian understood, and then, she gasped out. Upon closer examination it had turned out that the thing wasn't a cord at all, it was a whip.

She was so frightened suddenly that she could hardly think. In fact there were only two things that ran through Adrian's mind at the time. One of them was that the one she searched for had indeed been there; the other, that she could think of nothing in the world that would prompt that person to willingly abandon her precious whip.

Adrian probably shouldn't have acted that way, so impulsively, so recklessly. She was out of her mind with worry and thought that she was doing for the best, but if she had known what she was about to face, she might have thought twice before rushing down the steps and into the darkness.


End file.
